“What else?”
“Strangers.” Erin moved back toward the hearth, tossing another pinch of salt into the flames. “Men asking questions. Riding through. Nae from here.”
Iona felt the blood drain from her face.
“What sort of questions?” she asked carefully.
“Names. Who lives where. Who came to the village in the past few years.” Erin’s gaze slid back to her. “Who might be new.”
A cold tremor worked its way up Iona’s spine.
Seven years. She had lasted seven years without being found. She had been careful. Always careful. Kept her head down.Changed cottages when needed. Took only modest work. Raised her child quietly.
“Did they ask about me?” she forced out.
Erin thought for a while before answering, which was always answer enough.
Iona pressed her lips together.
“They didnae have a name,” Erin said at last. “But they are looking. I can feel it.”
Iona let out a slow breath through her nose, steadying herself. Panic would serve no one.
“Men pass through villages all the time,” she said, though her voice sounded thinner than she liked. “Perhaps it is coincidence.”
Erin snorted softly. “Coincidence doesnae make me bones ache.”
The fire crackled in the silence. Outside, the wind scraped against the shutters.
Erin stepped closer again, lowering her voice. “A change is coming, Iona. I feel it in me marrow. It willnae pass us by.”
Iona ground her teeth in frustration.
She had built her life on the fragile belief that if she stayed small enough, quiet enough, fate would forget her.
“What kind of change?” she asked.
“The kind that doesnae ask permission or wait until ye are ready for it.”
Her hands clenched at her sides.
In the corner of the cottage, a small wooden toy sword lay abandoned near the hearth. Jamie must have left it there before stepping out to play. The sight of it grounded her.
Nae for me, she thought.Never for me.
She would endure whatever storm came. She would run again if she had to. She would lie. She would fight.
“I will be careful,” she said, lifting her chin.
Erin nodded once. “See that ye are.”
Iona moved toward the small table and sat down slowly, exhaustion forgotten. Outside, somewhere beyond the trees, dogs barked in the distance.
Her fists tightened as she tried to rest them in her lap. For the nth time in the two years Erin Dawson had been letting themstay under her roof, and Iona wondered if she was a coward for keeping the truth locked behind her teeth.
Erin moved about the room with deliberate purpose, tidying without truly tidying. A broom leaned untouched against the wall. A stack of folded linens remained where she had placed them. She kept glancing toward Iona… almost knowingly.
Iona knew what.